The Son
by Chaser14
Summary: Kyle is irresponsible. Horatio is a workaholic. And a sociopath named Ron Saris wants them both dead. So. Sequel to "The Kid." Horatio and Kyle centric. Spoilers for season 7.
1. Worries

**A/N:** So, here is the sequel to "The Kid." You don't need to read it to understand this one. This is starting a few days after the events in "Divorce Party," so if you don't want to be spoiled, don't read.

**Extended Story Summary:** This story is continuing what I started in "The Kid." It is about Kyle and Horatio getting to know each other and forming a real father/son relationship. Now that Kyle is living on his own, he is faced with new temptations and decisions that could change his life forever. Horatio is keeping a careful eye on his new freedom-ridden son, but after the boy keeps getting into trouble, Horatio wonders whether he has made a mistake in letting him get his own apartment. However, both father and son have bigger worries when Ron Saris comes back to town.

This chapter basically sets things up for later chapters. Oh, and father and son have a moment at the end. ;)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters, except Leslie and Charlie (who don't appear until later.)

**Warnings:** None for now, but there might be a few _slightly_ sexual things later on. And when I say _slightly_, I really mean just that.

Oh, and I am going to try and keep this story as canon as possible, however to avoid the mess I got in when "Divorce Party" aired, I will say that there might be elements here and there that are a little AU.

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Kyle Harmon pulled the last book from the shelf of his former room. He turned it over. _The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe_—a childhood favorite. He put in the box with the rest of his books. He stood back and admired his few boxes. Soon all these things would be moved into his new beachside apartment. Kyle felt a rush of exited nervousness pass over him.

He looked out his window. His father and mother were standing by the MDPD hummer, locked in conversation. He took a deep breath. He couldn't believe that tonight he would sleep in his own apartment. He knew, having graduated early, that he would be moving out sooner rather than later. But he had been completely taken off guard when his father had provided him an apartment of his own.

Kyle stacked two boxes on top of each other and started the descent downstairs. He was surprised about how nervous he was to move out. He thought that he wouldn't be. After all, he had lived in eight different homes before coming to live with his mother. Moving was nothing new.

But this was different. He was going to live _on his own_. He was going to be treated like an adult—expected to pay bills and go to work every day. There would be no parents to take the fall for his mistakes. Kyle halted on the stair he was on. His nervousness was turning into fear.

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"Here, put this in." Julia handed Horatio a lamp that had once been in her living room. Horatio took it and put it into the back of the hummer.

Horatio was desperately trying not to look at Julia. He knew the woman was looking for an argument. He busied himself with re-arranging some of the things already in the back of the hummer.

Julia stood to the side of Horatio, her arms folded across her chest. "This isn't my fault," She finally said. "I am a good mother. He was doing fine. I don't see why he needs a place of his own at seventeen."

Horatio sighed but decided that it would be easier just to face her. "Julia, he has graduated high school and he has a job. It's time for him to learn the responsibilities of living on his own."

"And what if those responsibilities prove to be too much?"

Horatio had to concede that he had thought of that often. He trusted his son, but he also realized that the boy still had naivety in him.

"He's going to make mistakes, Julia. That's part of growing up. But I'm going to be around to keep an eye out on him. Okay?"

She stared at him, her eyes challenging. Finally, she drew a breath and nodded. "Fine."

Just then Kyle appeared outside carrying two boxes. "I've got two more upstairs," he called to his parents.

"I'll get them," Horatio said. He glanced at Julia before turning up the walk and entering the house.

Kyle put his two boxes in the back, and then turned to his mother. At just under six feet, he towered over his mother, who was not wearing heels.

"Thanks, Mom," Kyle said with a small smile.

"What for?" She asked.

"Thanks for taking me in. For getting me all the stuff you've gotten me. I know we've had a rough patch here and there, but I…" he hesitated, clearly uncomfortable, "I love you, Mom."

She smiled and gave him a hug. "I love you, too, Kyle." Her voice was unusually sincere.

Horatio appeared with the last two boxes, which he quickly loaded into the car. "Time to go, Son," he said to Kyle.

The boy nodded, gave his mother one last hug, and climbed into the passenger seat. Horatio climbed into the driver's seat, and the two hit the road.

They pulled up outside Beachside Apartment Complex fifteen minutes later. Kyle jumped out and began to unload the car. Horatio did the same.

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A couple hours later, Kyle looked around his place. He and his father had set up most of his things around the apartment. A bed and couch had been moved in a few days earlier (compliments of his mother.) There was an old looking fridge that had come with the place, a stove, and a few cabinets. Right across from his kitchen sat his new looking couch. Kyle smiled. At least he had a nice place to sit.

Horatio turned to Kyle. "There is one more thing. Your mother wanted to make sure I didn't give it to you until everything else had been set up."

"Another gift? She already got me a couch."

"Your mother is very generous." Horatio said it as if he was trying to convince himself it was true.

Kyle looked around as if the thing would be lying around. "Stay here," Horatio commanded, then left the apartment. A minute later he appeared, carrying a large box that was evidently very heavy.

Kyle rushed over and helped him lean it against the couch. His jaw dropped. "A flat screen TV?"

Horatio raised his eyebrows as if he was having a hard time believing it himself. "Compliments of your mother."

"Wow. Do you know how to set it up?" Horatio nodded, and the two got to work.

When they had finished, both stepped back to admire the new TV on the wall. Kyle glanced guiltily at his father. He knew his father didn't make much money, and he couldn't help but wonder if his father even had a TV as nice as this one.

Horatio looked around. "I guess…we're all set."

Kyle's stomach flipped over in fear. He had forgotten that his father was going to leave. Panic attacked him. "Wait," he said. "Maybe…maybe you could stay for dinner?"

Horatio looked surprised by the boy's request, but his look of surprise quickly turned into a gentle smile. "Of course."

Kyle breathed a rather audible sigh of relief. "Do you like Chinese?"

When Horatio nodded, Kyle went to the wall phone (which was so old there was a coiled cord attached), and ordered in a meal.

Eating there dinner some time later, Kyle couldn't help but realize that he didn't know much about his father. The man had been there for him time and time again. He had gotten him his job and this apartment, yet Kyle had never bothered to ask about his life.

Kyle put down his fork. He suddenly felt very shy. "Um…how old were you when you moved out on your own?"

Horatio raised his eyes to the boy. He apparently had not anticipated questions. Kyle hoped that the questions weren't unwanted.

"Well, you know that my parents were murdered when I was seventeen. My younger brother and I went to live with my aunt. I moved out when I turned eighteen."

Kyle nodded, absorbing the information. "So you were pretty much my age?"

Horatio nodded. He looked Kyle squarely in the face. "Which is why I know that you have to make a lot of decisions when you live on your own as a teenager."

Kyle looked away a little embarrassed. "I know, Dad. I'm not going to do anything stupid."

Horatio knew for a fact that that wasn't true, but it was a reality he would have to accept whether the boy moved out at 17 or 30.

"I trust you, Son." Kyle looked at the ground but smiled. He felt a rush of appreciation for his aging father.

Horatio glanced at his watch. It was nearly 9:30. Kyle felt the fear start to grip him again. He didn't want his father to leave him alone in the empty house.

Horatio looked up and caught the look on his son's face. Kyle quickly tried to hide his dread, but it was useless.

There was a moment of silence. Then Horatio spoke softly and comfortingly. "It's okay, Kyle, if you want me to spend the night. I can sleep on the couch."

Kyle's cheeks turned red but he nodded sheepishly. "Were you…nervous…when you first moved out?"

Horatio chuckled softly as he got up. He grabbed their plates then leaned towards Kyle as if telling him a secret. "Terrified."

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading. I really need some reviews to get this story kicked off.

**Coming Up:** Kyle has never really thought about what he would do if Leslie was standing in his house…with no one but him…wearing nothing but a towel…

Also, Horatio works a case that makes him regret his particular choice of apartment complex for Kyle.


	2. The Son Also Falls

**A/N:** Ugh, I'm sorry it took me so long. I'm usually better about updating. This chapter started off okay, but the more I wrote the more stuck I got. But I figured before I enter another so-busy-I'm-going-to-keel-over-and-die week of school, I'd better just finish the chapter. I promise better quality next week.

Also, this chapter deviates a little bit from my usual mode of storytelling. There is, for the first time, an appearance by the team members.

**Warnings:** Some language. Some slightly sexual…ideas. But nothing blatantly sexual.

**Disclaimer:** You think I what?! Own CSI: Miami?! Give me a break.

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Even as he stood there, Kyle Harmon couldn't quite figure out how this particular situation had come to pass. He didn't know why he was holding his cell phone flipped open in his hand. He didn't know why can of ground coffee was now spilled all over the floor. But he especially did not know why Leslie Anders was standing in his kitchen, covered by nothing but a flimsy towel.

He stood there, fighting the hotness threatening to take over his body. He focused on her eyes, trying desperately to distract his wandering mind.

She apparently noticed his discomfort, for she shrunk back a little and crossed her arms across her towel.

Kyle swallowed. "Er…what happened to your…um…clothes?"

A small smile followed by a slight frown lighted her face. "Those damn neighbors of yours, Kyle. They stole my clothes while I was swimming, and the clasp on my swimsuit top broke." She held up small piece of fabric that had evidently been her swimsuit. Inwardly, Kyle laughed. Leslie was a sweet girl, but she wasn't modest.

Focusing on her statement, Kyle tried to piece together information. The nearly naked girl in front of was causing his mind to go oddly blank. A figment of memory slid into place. Leslie. Swimming. She had come over to swim on the beach behind his apartment complex. He thought about her other words. Neighbors?

The Brodsky twins. The two young men lived in the Beachside complex, but were a building over. They were annoying pranksters who Kyle had quickly learned to avoid.

So they had taken her clothes, and her top was broken. This realization hit Kyle straight in the face…or lower, perhaps…but he quickly recovered. "They're probably still around. I'll try to find your clothes."

She smiled her thanks. He collected himself and headed for the back door of his apartment. "Kyle?"

He turned. She pointed to his phone. "Did you need to call someone?"

He had forgotten that he was even holding the phone. He looked at it, trying to remember why he was carrying it. On the screen, the words _missed call_ blinked several times. He pressed enter on the phone. The screen showed a phone number, and a name listed at the top—_Dad_.

Kyle spent only a second wondering why his father had called, but quickly brushed it off. He needed to get Leslie some clothes ASAP, if not for her sake, then for his. He would call his father back later.

"No, it's just my Dad," Kyle answered Leslie. She nodded. He took off out the back door in search of clothes, and hopefully, some self control.

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_**Two Hours Earlier**_

Horatio entered the lab to find Ryan Wolfe processing a shirt. "What do we have, Mr. Wolfe?" The lieutenant asked.

"Spatter on the vic's shirt, and gunshot residue. Based on the pattern on the shirt and the entry wound of the bullet, I think the residue came from our shooter."

Horatio had been tied up all day in this case. A young woman in her mid-twenties had been found gunned down outside a nightclub. They had only just found the identity of the woman—her name was Mariah Sanchez.

"Calleigh recovered a round, and she's using special processing to try and restore the bullet. We may be able to match striation marks," Ryan mentioned as he continued to swab the shirt.

"Okay. Keep my posted," Horatio answered. Horatio exited and walked to the ballistics lab. He hoped to get a match of the striations.

Calleigh greeted him with her usual cheeriness.

"The bullet was from a .45 Luger. I ran the striations and got a hit on a gun owned by a man named Pierre Guiree."

Horatio wasted no time in calling up Frank and having Pierre Guiree brought in for questioning.

"I have no idea vat you're talking about," The man said in a heavy French accent.

"Let's cut the crap," Horatio said. "We can match the bullet from your gun to the bullet found in Mariah Sanchez."

The young man, who had dark features and who looked about twenty-five, fidgeted nervously. "That gun vas stolen from me."

Horatio smiled a cunning smile. "Yes, I'm sure it was. Why don't you tell us what's really going on? Who are you covering for?"

Pierre stopped fidgeting. "Vat makes you think I would tell you anything?"

Frank stepped forward. "Hey frenchie, you ever heard of the phrase 'Don't mess with Texas? Well I'm Texas. So why don't you start talking?"

Pierre sighed and looked away. "Okay, I'll tell you. I just moved here on a student visa. I have not had much money. One night I talk to this man in a bar, and we start talking about guns. I tell him that I own a Luger, and he's says that vill get me much money. Then he gives me directions to this man who vill buy the gun from me. So I do it. This man pay in cash. Then nothing more. I don't see him again."

"So this man you sold the gun to…he buys and sells weapons on the black market?" Horatio asked.

The Frenchman shrugged. "I do not know. But the man says not to tell anyone about it." Pierre paused. "I'm not sure…but I think I overhear other man call him 'Paul.'"

Horatio nodded, convinced by the man's words. "Where did you meet him?"

Pierre wrote down a location. Horatio took it and thanked the man. "You're free to go."

The lieutenant watched him go, but was interrupted by Frank. "Horatio, I think I may know who Mr. Guiree was talking about."

Horatio turned to face his friend. The Texan continued. "Paul Brodsky. He's got a twin brother Phillip. They're known for their little weapons operation, but we've never been able to get any real evidence on them."

Horatio frowned. The names seemed familiar somehow, but he couldn't quite place them. "Thank you, Frank." Horatio said.

The detective nodded and left. Horatio walked into the hall, intending to go to his office, but he was interrupted by Ryan.

"H, I think you're going to want to see this."

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_**Present Time**_

Kyle walked across the short space between apartment buildings. He climbed the stairs to the second floor. Kyle wasn't sure exactly which room was the Brodsky twins', but he knew that it was a room that faced his building. He began to knock on doors.

He tried not to think of Leslie, standing near naked in his kitchen. To say that he had never thought of her in a sexual way would be the worst kind of lie, but he did make an effort to keep his thoughts of her platonic. Today he was not doing so well in that endeavor.

As he reached the third door, he raised his hand to knock and then paused. Suppose he just stopped looking, then went back to his kitchen and told Leslie that he couldn't find her clothes? Suppose he said and did just the right things? Suppose that this was his opportunity?

It was a tempting thought. The door of opportunity seemed wide open. Yet, a small portion of his heart tugged at him. It wasn't fair to take advantage of her like that. All she wanted was some clothes…

The two voices battled in his head. Twice he turned to walk back to his apartment before changing his mind and facing the door again. He was stuck.

Luckily, it was a decision he never had to make. For at that moment he was knocked backwards down the flight of stairs that he had climbed only minutes before.

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_**½ Hour Earlier/ Present Time**_

All the pieces had fallen together. The team had discovered that Phillip Brodsky had been present at the same nightclub that Mariah Sanchez had been at the night she had been murdered. Witnesses claimed that the two had had an altercation. Between that and the match to the gun Paul had bought, Phillip was looking good for the young woman's murder.

But Horatio had a whole other worry on his mind. A search of Phillip and Paul Brodsky had brought up the two men's address—Beachside Apartment complex. Horatio was on the phone within a minute, dialing Kyle's number. It rang four times, and then went to voicemail. Horatio called again, this time while heading towards the Hummer. Voicemail again.

Now Horatio, along with his team, was racing towards the apartments. Even with the siren of his hummer blaring, and the speedometer reaching nearly 80 mph, Horatio felt like it was taking forever to reach his destination. A now familiar worry was settling over him. For a moment he almost laughed—even when his son wasn't doing anything wrong he found himself in trouble. But then the dread returned. He recognized the sick, knotting feeling that enveloped his gut as an emotion reserved for his son. It was a kind of worry that he felt for Kyle alone.

Horatio finally screeched into Beachside Complex. He was practically out of the car before it even came to a stop. The others pulled up beside him. Frank, in his police uniform, drew a gun. Horatio did the same.

"They're in the far left building, Horatio. Room 23," Frank drawled.

Horatio did not want to speak. He wanted to arrest somebody. He nodded and led the way between the left building and the middle building, which was where Kyle's apartment was. Frank and Eric followed.

Horatio could see the stairs leading to the upper floor, where room 23 was, was at the backside of the building near the beach. The team had to wind their way past the gardens and fountains that blocked their view of the beach.

When Horatio cleared the last garden he became aware of several things at once. One of his suspects, Paul Brodsky, was running towards the beach. The same suspect was covered in blood. Kyle was lying at the base of the stairs, holding his side.

Kyle was only twenty feet from Horatio. The suspect was forty. Horatio rushed towards his son, all thought of the suspect having left his mind. But before Horatio could reach him, Kyle got up. With what sounded to Horatio like "Oh, hell no," muttered under his breath, Kyle started running down the suspect.

It didn't last long. Kyle was a very fast runner, even injured as he apparently was. He caught up to Paul in a matter of seconds. He gave one last heave and tackled Paul onto the sand.

Horatio didn't know whether to be worried or amused. Kyle got up with a pained look on his face. Frank and Eric had rushed over and cuffed Paul, and were now interrogating him about the whereabouts of his brother. Horatio hurried to Kyle.

"Nice job," Horatio said with the hint of a smile. Kyle smiled back. "You okay?"

"Ya, I'm fine. My side hurts a bit from my tumble down the stairs. The bastard pushed me."

Horatio raised his eyebrows and gave a small scorn over Kyle's choice of words. "I would still like to have the EMT take a look at you."

Kyle barely suppressed an eye roll. "I'm fine."

"This isn't up for negotiation."

Frank appeared behind Horatio. "We found the twin, Horatio." Horatio turned as if expecting to see the young man there. "We found his body in the apartment."

Kyle and Horatio wore identical looks of surprise. Frank continued, "it looks like Paul was actually behind Mariah Sanchez's murder, and he shot Phillip to keep him quiet."

Horatio nodded, processing the information. Kyle stepped forward. "I know this is kind of weird, but you didn't happen to find any girl's clothes in their apartment, did you?"

Frank didn't know what to make of that so he just answered the question. "I think I might have seen some lying on the table. Why?"

It took nearly a minute for Kyle to piece together an explanation.

Frank frowned. "Well it is a crime scene. I guess that would make it Horatio's call."

"Has Paul confessed to either murder?" Horatio asked.

"Ya, he confessed to shooting Paul. But he denies shooting the Sanchez girl."

Horatio nodded then turned to Kyle. "Let me process the clothes, and if I don't find anything on them, which I don't think I will, then you can have them back."

Kyle agreed then glanced back at his apartment. Horatio headed towards the crime scene. "Dad?" Kyle called suddenly.

Horatio turned. Kyle grinned. "Take your time."

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**A/N:** I am glad this chapter is done! Please read and review! It's going to be better next chapter, I promise.

**Coming Up: **Horatio, Yelina, Kyle, and Ray Jr. have an Easter dinner together. With that many Caines in one room, you know things are going to get out of hand!


	3. Rock 'N Roll All Night

**A/N:** Hold on to your hats, folks! We're going AU! Now don't worry, I'm not going to turn this into an out-of-character soap opera. In fact, the changes I am making will be quite small. But since they do contradict what is on the show…You'll understand once you finish the chapter. I felt as if writing with the current Horatio/Kyle storyline (that is on the show) was too difficult and boring. I've never been so stuck writing a CSI: Miami fic. "The Kid" was so much easier to write! And I've realized why…read and find out!

**Warnings:** None, except that this chapter is really short.

**Disclaimer:** Oh do I wish I owned it. But alas…

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Horatio flipped through the case file on his way to Autopsy, trying to put together the details of the day's case.

When he reached the room he was surprised to find it empty except for his son, whose back was turned to him. The boy appeared to be marking something on a file. After a moment, he reached up and rubbed his eyes as if tired.

"Kyle?" Horatio made his presence known.

Kyle turned, a little surprised. "Oh. Hi, Dad."

There was a pause as Horatio watched the boy. "Are you okay, son?" He asked with his head titled concernedly to the side.

Kyle looked up surprised. "I'm fine," he said with a nonchalant shrug. "Why do you ask?"

"You don't look well."

Kyle opened his mouth to speak but said nothing. The moment was broken when Tara opened the door to Autopsy.

"Hello, Lieutenant."

"Doctor."

"I've got your COD on the Star Island murder. The vic's right over here."

Horatio glanced one final time at his son, whose eyes had darkening rings around them, and whose movement seemed slower with every lift of his fingers. He then turned to the victim. Whatever was going on with Kyle would have to wait.

Behind him, Horatio thought he heard a sigh.

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The case Horatio had been working on cleared up quickly. When the end of the day rolled around, Horatio found his work done and his papers filed. Just as he was rising from his office chair to leave, his phone rang.

"Caine," Horatio answered.

"Hello, this is Allan Greene. I'm the landlord down at Beachside Apartment Complexes. I'm calling about some damages to the apartment leased in your name."

Horatio shifted his position as he held the phone, processing the man's words. "What damages?"

"It looks to me like there was some kind of party thrown there last night. There's trash everywhere, and one of the windows on the side of the apartment is broken. Also, some of the neighbors complained about the noise level last night. As part of the lease agreement, the lease holder has to pay to fix any damages to the apartment."

Horatio looked at the floor, a sinking feeling his stomach. "I understand. Can I get back to you on this, Allan?"

"Sure, as long as it's in the next couple of days."

"Thank you."

Horatio carefully placed the phone down on its base. He stood there for a moment, contemplating what had to be done. He glanced at his watch, and then headed towards the front of the building.

Luckily, he caught Kyle as he was heading towards his car. "A word, son?" Horatio asked, standing at the bottom of the steps.

Kyle walked back to his father slowly. "What's going on?" Kyle asked immediately, sensing his father's mood.

"I got a call from your landlord a few minutes ago." He locked his eyes on Kyle's and he gave him an appraising look.

Kyle remained silent, but his guilty face said it all. Knowing he wasn't going to fool his father, Kyle didn't even try to lie. "It was just a party, Dad. A couple of friends…well they all brought friends, and then it was just this huge thing."

Horatio held his sunglasses in front of him in two hands and looked to the ground. "Were you drinking?" He raised his head and looked Kyle straight in the eyes as he said it.

"No," Kyle said sincerely. "I don't drink anymore."

"But others there were drinking."

Kyle looked around as if he could suddenly disappear out of this situation. He breathed in and didn't make eye contact. He willed his voice to sound as if he believed what he was saying. "The others…the one's I didn't know…they brought it. It wasn't a big deal, Dad. If they want to drink, why should I stop them?"

Horatio sighed and looked away. "This is not the kind of responsible behavior we talked about, Kyle."

Kyle was shame-faced. "I know, Dad. It just got out of hand. It won't happen again."

There was a long silence. Horatio looked sideways at his young son. The boy's eyes were sincere, but they were also youthful and lively. Horatio knew that it was his responsibility to look after the welfare of his son. If that meant making sacrifices on both their behalves, then so be it.

"It won't happen again, son. You're coming to live with me."

Kyle's eyes went round and anger shot immediately into them. "What!? No way! It's my place!"

"Actually, it's my place." Horatio eyes were set and Kyle could see that he was not about to change his mind. "You'll be eighteen in half a year, and then you can go wherever you please. But until you prove to me that you can make responsible decisions for yourself, you'll be living with me."

Kyle looked away in a huff. He could see there would be no arguing the point. Horatio sighed and put his sunglasses on. This was the beginning of a whole new adventure.

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**A/N:** I know it was short, but I'll make up for it later. Please Review!

**Coming Up:** Watch CSI: Miami tonight and you'll get a hint of the things to come!


	4. Boom

**A/N:** This is a chapter based entirely off the episode "Collateral Damage." If you haven't seen it, then you've been warned. This will explore Kyle's perspective as well as address something I found really annoying about the episode—where the heck was Horatio through this whole ordeal? Actually, the ending of the episode played in nicely with what I hope to do with the story, so I guess I'm not that annoyed. I had fun writing this and I hope you have fun reading it.

**Warnings:** Slight language, and major spoilers for the episode **"Collateral Damage."**

**Disclaimer:** I don't even own a little slice of CSI: Miami.

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Kyle always wondered whether his life would flash before his eyes right before he died. He always wondered if, should he find himself in a life-threatening situation, a sudden kaleidoscope of memories would whirl across his mind. He wondered if he would remember important things or just small moments.

But the truth is, as Kyle was to discover, that life does not flash before one's eyes when death is on the line. In fact, as Kyle watched that grenade fall he quite clearly remembered the one and only thought going through his mind—_holy hell, this place is gonna blow._

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It was a Tuesday, of course. Bad things always happen on Tuesdays. Kyle entered the Autopsy room with a full spirit. He was energized and ready to do a day's work. Today's work promised to be extra exciting—there had been a bombing at a restaurant. Kyle knew his excitement was fairly morbid, but most aspects of his life had taken a turn towards morbid since he started this job, so he didn't waste too much worry over it.

Ryan Wolfe entered the autopsy room, enquiring with Dr. Price about the restaurant bombing victims. Kyle glanced at him while he worked. He didn't know CSI Wolfe very well, but he had a sort of admiration for him. The man was strong and confident—something Kyle wished he was.

Kyle focused back on his task. He wheeled in the gurney holding the male victim from the restaurant, with the assistance of fellow intern Wayne. The job done, Wayne excused himself Dr. Price started to explain to CSI Wolfe what she had noticed about the injuries.

Kyle unzipped the body bag to the end. He began to tug on the one remaining foot, which was somewhat stuck inside the bag. He maneuvered it this way and that, and finally gave it a good tug. The foot came free, and so did something else.

He heard it before he saw it. The small knobbed ball clacked loudly against the metal autopsy table. Kyle watched it fall, somehow knowing what would happen before the event was set into motion. Somewhat futilely, Kyle asked, "What was that?"

He already knew. The grenade fell to the floor, landing squarely between his and CSI Wolfe's feet. Later on, this would be the moment that Kyle would remember about that day. He would remember not what happened, but what didn't happen. In his mind, he should have kicked the grenade away, or pushed CSI Wolfe out of danger's path. He should have run, or jumped, or hid. He should have done _something._

But as it was, he did nothing. He watched it fall. He watched the pin come flying into the air. He registered at the last second that he had only a moment left to live. That was when he when flying backwards.

Kyle remembered little in detail from that moment forward.

Lights, sounds, air blasting downwards. Being pulled against a table. Words and sobs escaping his mouth. CSI Wolfe's eyes looking into his, telling him that it would be all right. And so much emotion, so much raw powerful emotion coursing through him. That feeling that he had almost died could not leave him. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Within minutes there was an EMT checking him out, peering into his eyes and mouth and pressing his hands all over his head and rib cage. The world started to come back into focus. His mind sharpened, the shock lessened.

When Kyle became completely aware of his situation, he knew only one thing he wanted to do—see his father. He couldn't explain why, but he knew his father would know exactly what to say to him. His father was in these types of situations all the time.

He didn't have to walk far. After being allowed to leave the Autopsy room, he went outside intending to walk over to the crime lab building, but his father was already walking towards him.

They met in the middle. Horatio peered at Kyle with concerned eyes. "Are you all right, son?"

Kyle nodded torpidly. Horatio glanced down at Kyle's hands. Kyle shoved them into his pockets, but the shaking was still noticeable.

"You'll be fine, Kyle. You just need to give it some time."

Kyle hesitated, and then spoke softly. "I saw the grenade before anyone else. I should have stopped it." He looked to his father, seeking comfort.

"Kyle, sometimes these things happen and there's nothing that anyone can do about it, okay?"

"Yeah, I guess," Kyle said, but his voice didn't seem sure.

Horatio watched his son a moment, and then placed his hand firmly on the boy's shoulder. "Why don't you head home, and I'll see you in a few hours."

The corner of Kyle's mouth turned up slightly in a grateful smile. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Dad."

Horatio gave him a small smile in return, and then headed back towards the crime lab.

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Kyle rested on the couch, the television turned down low. He glanced at his watch again—seven o'clock. His father still wasn't home.

Kyle knew he shouldn't expect him. Horatio had sent him a text only about an hour ago saying that he had to attend to a woman and her children and that he would home later. But that did not make him less antsy.

He had almost died today. He thought his father would want to come home and be with him_. Stop being so selfish,_ _Harmon,_ Kyle thought to himself. But as the minutes ticked on, the uneasiness settled in. Kyle couldn't help but wondering exactly what living with his Dad was going to be like.

He fell asleep, and didn't wake until the next morning.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading, and as always, please review!

**Coming up:** Old habits are not so far beneath the surface as happy people always seem to think they are.


	5. Breaking Points

**A/N:** You probably never expected to see another chapter of this story, did you? Yeah, I didn't either. But I've been working on it every once in a while in hopes that I might finally post it. There hasn't been much inspiration for me to keep writing the story--Kyle hasn't been seen once in season 8! (PM me for a spoiler as to why he has not been seen) However, I've been wanting to get back to writing FF and I've got some new plotbunnies, most of which involve Kyle, Ray, and Leslie...so we shall see. No promises.

This chapter is based entirely off the episode "Dissolved" which aired last season. Some of the scenes feature dialoge directly from the show. If it seems that I am skipping lines here and there, I am. This chapter is from Kyle's viewpoint and he may or may not be paying attention the whole time. You'll hear what he hears.

I know I gave up on you guys, but reviews are greatly appreciated and may inspire me to write another chapter!

* * *

Kyle was one ring away from throwing the damn cell phone into the ocean. He loved his mother, but this was out of control. No one, not even his mom, needed to be calling him seven times a day. He had taken to ignoring most of her calls, and making excuses about it later.

If he were a bit braver, he reasoned, he would just tell her that he didn't want to talk to her. He would just look her in the eye and say that he had no wish to visit her house. But he wasn't brave. He couldn't tell her. So instead he made several trips a week to her now downsized house. He put up with hours of rantings about Ron, money troubles, and anything else that had upset her that day.

Kyle decided to ignore this call. He would take the next one. Instead he was going to enjoy his lunch break.

Usually he packed a lunch and ate in the staff room in the City Morgue building. Occasionally he would cross over to the crime lab building and have lunch with his dad. But today he decided to use his hour of freedom and go to a local outdoor cafe. He didn't mind eating alone. During his time in juvie he had learned the advantages of sitting and watching. So much could be learned by studying humans in their natural habitat.

Kyle was studying an elderly man who was feeding the birds. The man would toss some bread crusts to the excited birds, then sit back and breathe in with a sigh. Kyle wondered what the man was thinking about. Was he wondering, reminiscing, regretting? Kyle was brought out of his reverie by the sound of a chair pulling up beside him.

He turned to find Leslie sitting with her head on her fist, grinning at him. "Hey," he said happily. "What's got you so happy?"

"Graduation."

Kyle had almost forgotten. He had graduated at Christmastime. Now his classmates would be receiving their diplomas. "I forgot. When's the date again? I've got make sure I take work off."

"The 12th," She said happily, "And if you can't get work off you're quitting. I have not suffered through thirteen years with you only to have you miss the big day."

He was about to retort when his cell phone rang. Out of habit he glanced down. _Mom_. Frack. He hit the ignore button.

"Who was that?" Leslie asked innocently.

"My mom."

"You aren't going to answer it?"

Kyle hesitated. It was true that in the past he had told Leslie nearly every gruesome detail of his life, but when it came to his parents he had been rather quiet. She knew very little about either of them.

"She's been calling a lot. I can't keep answering every time."

Leslie was quiet a moment, trying to stitch things together. "Is…everything okay with her?"

"Not really." Kyle ate a French fry. "Can we talk about this later? It's gonna take some explanations and I've only got fifteen minutes to get back."

Leslie nodded, her face blank. "Okay, I've got to run anyway. I've got a dentist appointment." She grimaced. "I'll call you tonight."

She stood and placed a kiss on his cheek. It had become something of a custom lately. Although due to her schoolwork and his morgue-work they had been unable to see each other as often as usual, she ended each of their meetings with a kiss on the cheek. Kyle knew she was probably trying to send him a message, but every time he wanted to take things further, his courage failed him. He just couldn't figure out how to segway from a platonic relationship to a romantic one.

Shaking aside the tingly feeling that always accompanied a kiss from Leslie, Kyle stood up. He paid the bill and headed back to the lab.

* * *

He was digging through the storage room for more gloves when his phone rang again. Seeing his mother's name on the screen for once did not bring anger. He had made up his mind about what to do. He only needed the opportunity.

"Dr. Price?" Kyle asked, walking back into the autopsy room.

"Yes?"

"There are no more gloves in the storage room. Do you want me to run over to the crime lab and see if they have extras?"

It was a lame story even to him, but Dr. Price looked at him with slight understanding. She had, no doubt, heard his phone vibrating in his pocket all day. "Go ahead."

Kyle took his time walking over. He wanted to be sure he knew what he would say. He only hoped his father wasn't out at a crime scene. Luck seemed to be with him. He had only just entered the hall headed towards the lab when he saw his father walking towards him, cell phone glued to his ear. As the older man drew nearer, he put the phone away and greeted his son with a short "Hey."

"Hey Dad," Kyle replied, careful to infuse the simple words with the feelings he did not want to express.

Horatio, ever perceptive, looked at him with care, the way a father inspects a child with a cut. "You okay?"

A rush of affection raced through Kyle's veins. His mother had never bothered to ask questions like that—no one had, except Leslie, perhaps. "Yeah…I've been okay. It's just that Mom's been calling me non-stop." Kyle paused. That was a little exaggerated. "I mean, she's already called me four times and…" The frustration of the past days broke through his carefully planned routine. "I can't deal…I just can't deal with—"

"Hang on a second. What are you talking about?" Horatio interrupted. Kyle took a breath in. He often lost his temper in conversation and he had a feeling his father's question was more a chance for him to calm himself than to get answers.

When he had regained his mask of calm, Kyle explained. "Well she always wants me to come over to her house and when I do it's just trouble. She's constantly getting mad, always talking about Ron."

"Kyle," Horatio's voice was slightly admonishing, "she's been through a lot lately hasn't she?"

Kyle just barely refrained from sighing in frustration. His father was right of course, but there's only so much he should be expected to take. He gave a small nod of the head and said, "I know. It's just that she isn't getting any better, Dad." He wanted to throw in _like you promised_, but it sounded childish, even in his head.

"Has she been taking the medication?" Horatio questioned.

_How should I know? Am I my mother's keeper?_ Kyle said to himself. To his father he said, "I don't know. I've been really busy with work." It was a safe answer.

Kyle's phone chirped in his hand. "Someone's calling me from my house. It has to be her."

Horatio took the phone and answered it—"Julia?"

Even Kyle could hear the sound of the line going dead. Horatio stared at the phone a moment. Kyle felt so vindicated he couldn't help but say, "See?" Horatio gave a small nod of the head.

* * *

"She's ready for the Y," Kyle informed Tara.

Dr. Price looked at the young man on her table. "All right. Grab the bone saw, please." Tara then looked across the morgue at CSI Wolfe, who was talking on his cell phone.

Before he even heard the sound of the gun, Kyle felt his reflexes yank him toward the ground. He cowered behind the table until his mind caught up with the action around him. He looked to his right where he saw Tara and her assistant crouching, their faces contorted with fright. He looked to his left where he saw CSI Wolfe with his gun drawn, pointing at some target across the room.

Kyle followed the direction of the gun towards the door. Mom. He didn't even think the words before they were flying out of his mouth, "Mom! What are you doing?"

Julia didn't even seem to be paying attention to her son. Her face was deadly calm and set. Kyle hardly processed what was happening as he watched CSI Wolfe put his gun down. A rush of panic raced through him as the gun pointed at each body in the lab but his own.

The steel woman finally turned to the boy. "Kyle, come with me." It was an order—direct, concrete, and absolutely to be followed.

He needed time. "I will, just put the gun down, you're scaring everybody!" _You're scaring me_, he wanted to say, but he knew it wouldn't matter.

"I will when we're safe." He could see his mother wasn't about to be persuaded. Knowing he was out of time, Kyle took one step forward and stopped. Blue eyes met blue eyes.

"Julia." She whirled around and pointed the gun at Horatio. A rush of panic much stronger than before hit Kyle.

"Don't come any closer, Horatio." For the first time there was real fear in Julia's eyes. "I'm gonna get him back."

"This is not the way."

"I've tried your way. But you still blame me for trying to kill Ron, for hurting our son, for taking those pills."

"Julia, you were right, and I was wrong."

Kyle was utterly confused. All he could think about was his racing heart and the gun now trembling in his mother's hands. He didn't even try to decipher his parents' conversation.

His mother was turning back to him. For a split second he wondered whether she was about to turn the gun on him. She wasn't. "Goodbye, Kyle."

Instinctively, he reached out. "Mom no!" Never had such terror racked his body. No thoughts went through his head. He had no memory that words had even escaped his lips. All he knew was that his arm was reaching forward and his body was preparing to lunge. He closed his eyes.

No sound of bullet fire reached his ears. No screams. No body hitting the floor. He opened his eyes. His father's hand was locked onto the trigger.

He did not process what happened next. He did not watch his mother be put into handcuffs and read her rights. He did not watch her be lead away. He did not look at the others. He only felt the stinging in his eyes.

He turned and walked away so that his father would not see the hot tears falling down his cheeks.


End file.
